I apologize for the
long wait. I will respond to no-doubt furious questions as to why
this took so long with one phrase: college is a bitch.

AOME: CHP 18

Euphoria is a funny
thing. It quite literally feels like you're on top of the world,
but sooner or later, as is the case with all good things despite how
much I wish it weren't true, it comes to an end..

In a haphazard sort of
way, I was experiencing the same type of thing.

It wasn't to say that
I wasn't happy anymore—oh no, that surely wasn't possible—but
that I was merely drained. I had been all over the emotional map
today, done hard labor all afternoon out in the cold, made dinner,
become downright hysterical several times, played chess, jumped out
of my skin countless times, finally admitted my secret, cried so hard
my whole body ached and finally…Draco had kissed me.

I had had a bit of a
day. I was tired.

It was rather scary how
suddenly it had come on, too. After I had come to peace with Draco's
admission, it was like my body had decided that all was now settled,
and that it could finally rest.

It was fairly
embarrassing, actually. One moment I was listening to Draco's
assurance that everything was alright whilst I felt his chest beneath
my fingers, and the next thing I knew I was opening my eyes to find
myself sagging in his arms, as if I had fainted.

Some crash, eh?

"Ginny?"

I jerked awake, opening
my eyes blearily to peer up at the smudgy cream colored mass calling
my name. The figure began to take shape after I blinked several
times, and I nearly closed my eyes again in contentment and went back
to sleep when I realized it was Draco.

In fact, the only
reason I didn't is because he had a rather unusual look on his
face. It was a mixture of what I could tell was amusement, but he
seemed to be trying to conceal it under a form of concern, which
looked extremely awkward and foreign to his features.

When I realized I
wasn't standing on my own accord it became clear where the concern
was coming from.

Draco raised an
eyebrow, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not
quite sure, actually. At first I thought you had fainted, you see,
because you nearly went limp."

I winced, closing the
other eye and throwing the back of my hand over my face.

"But then," he
continued, and I could just hear the smug amusement in his
voice, "I figured you must've fallen asleep, what with the
snoring and all."

My eyes flew open.
"Snoring?!" I exclaimed, mortified.

He smirked in response.

I groaned. "Oh,
hell."

"Well think about it
this way—it couldn't have been too terribly unattractive, because
I let you remain in that state for a good couple of minutes. In fact,
the only reason I woke you was because I was beginning to fear for
you health. Some of the noises you were making…" he trailed off,
making a grim face.

I was ninety-percent
sure he was bluffing, but part of me was still severely troubled by
that comment.

"It's been a long
day, alright? There's something wrong with you if you're not
drained after that whole bit," I defended, though still
embarrassed. I took a moment to reinstate my footing, which was
somewhat challenging, as if my coordination was completely barmy.

Draco relinquished his
grip on my shoulders after he was happy that I was fit to stand on my
own accord. "I suppose a bit. I don't need much sleep."

"Even you've got
to be spent after today," I insisted. "Bloody nutters not to be.
Besides, you sure passed out when we first arrived."

With a level eye,
Draco responded, "Call me crazy, but that may have been partly due
to the fact that I had to haul around the likes of a hysterical witch
through four feet of snow."

"Well now we both
know that there's no denying that that was your fault."

He raised an eyebrow,
smirking a little. "My fault, was it?"

"Precisely. You
drove me to my wits end! You wouldn't have had to carry me if you
hadn't made me so bloody mad."

He seemed to find this
amusing, and leaned forward, so that he was nearly eye-level with me.
"I'd gladly take the blame for that," he murmured in that new
tone of his, which I was beginning to think was far too unfair of him
to use, as it had a nearly dangerous effect on me.

I shivered and wrapped
my arms around myself, then stepped out from between him and the
desk. True, he had kissed me and there was now no reason for me to
think that my reaction to him would come as a shock, but I hadn't
exactly secured the right to have free reign over his body, either,
however much I wished it. I wasn't quite sure where the boundaries
were at this point.

I could feel his eyes
on my back. "I do feel a little guilty about that, though. I wish
you'd at least try to sleep, if only a little. There's no reason
to stay awake, anyhow," I pointed out. I had a strange feeling he
was smirking.

"Fair enough," I
heard him respond, and I was unsurprised to hear the smugness in his
tone.

I was just about to
feel satisfied with his response when I realized something that
completely obliterated that feeling. Why this had only just occurred
to me I'm not sure, but as I glanced towards the bed it was only
then that I realized how small it was, and how large the two of us
were.

I turned around
awkwardly, wondering whether or not Draco had noticed this problem as
well. It wasn't that we couldn't fit, you see, but rather
that if we were to make ourselves fit there wouldn't be much
room for anything else. As always, this was a double-sided issue to
my mind.

I tried to play the
situation down, casually glancing back at Draco, though I had a nasty
feeling my eyes were a bit wider than normal judging by his response.

He seemed to be
gauging my reaction, and with a calm expression, gestured towards the
bed with a sweeping hand motion. "It's all yours." He smiled
slightly, and I blushed as I realized he must have sensed my
discomfort. So much for playing it suave.

I
blinked stupidly before the meaning sunk in. "What? Where are you
going to sleep?" I asked, concern and guilt washing over me
once again.

Draco
shrugged as if this was unimportant. "Weasley, I'm a smart man.
I'll figure something out."

"Don't
be ridiculous—there's plenty of room for the both of us," I
protested, trying to sound resolute. The bed seemed to be shrinking
by the second.

Draco chuckled.
"That's not really the problem, is it?" he asked, turning to me
with a roguish grin, though I could have sworn it appeared a bit
bitter. "Besides, how do you know I'm not a bed hog?"

I was caught by
surprise. "Are you?" I tried to restrain a smile.

He simply smiled
mysteriously. "You're the one that wanted to crawl into bed so
badly—get on with it, will you?"

I said the first thing
that came to mind, without thinking it over first. Such a thing was a
bad call on my part, for it yielded a horrible result.

"Not unless you come
with me."

Draco seemed to be
stifling a laugh as he raised an eyebrow, but I could have sworn I
saw his eyes flash with something other than mirth, if only for a
moment.

A few more moments
passed.

"Very well," he
stated smoothly, voice completely in control once again.

My stomach did such a
tremendous somersault I thought I was going to be sick. That was it?!
It was that easy?

I swallowed, and
responded in an even tone that was the exact opposite of what I was
feeling. "Fine."

I glanced at the bed
again, and felt a hand on my back ushering me forward—it really is
alarming how fast he can move sometimes. I resisted the urge to dig
my heels into the ground, mainly because the last time I had
attempted said strategy it had resulted in a rather embarrassing
episode.

When we reached the
bedside I remained standing, my hands clenched into fists and limbs
stiff.

Thankfully I was saved
the trouble of explaining that I couldn't use said appendages
because he reached around me and smoothly pulled back the blankets. I
climbed in numbly, sliding all the way to the wall, shaking. I felt
him follow suit, and my body went as stiff as a board.

Draco rolled to his
side, facing me, and I quickly squeezed my eyes shut. I vaguely felt
him fluff the pillows, followed by shifting a large amount of blanket
in my direction, which I suspected might be to ensure that I had
enough, but I found that doubtful.

"Comfortable?"
came his smooth voice from near my ear, so close I nearly jumped. I
could feel his chest rising and falling against my arm, which
twitched longingly with the desire to touch him.

"Yes," I lied.

There was an abrupt
whoosh of air and suddenly he was no longer against my arm at all.
"Splendid. I can leave, then."

My stomach gave
another flip, and I sat bolt upright. "What?!" I exclaimed.

"You never said I
had to sleep here, simply that I had to get into bed with
you," he pointed out as he climbed out from under the blankets.

Why that conniving
little…little…!

I spluttered angrily
at him for implementing such juvenile antics before sticking my
tongue out at him and promptly rolling over with a huff to stare at
the wall.

I was in the midst of
thinking how perfectly content I was with ignoring him for the
remainder of the evening, Merlin be damned where he ended up
sleeping, when a series of awkward shuffling noises piqued my
curiosity and I gave in. It didn't really matter—I knew myself
well enough to say with confidence that I couldn't have ignored him
the whole night anyhow.

I rolled over to see
Draco shifting the large armchair slightly, followed by the rickety
old desk chair. He positioned the latter several feet from the
armchair, with its back to the side, as if he was trying to create
one large, continuous chair.

Confused, I glanced
down and saw that he was referring to a rather thin afghan.
Suspicious, I asked a question that, in retrospect, was pretty
moronic. "What do you want it for?"

He raised an eyebrow.
"To sleep with," he responded dryly.

I craned my neck so as
to get a proper view of the contraption behind him. The desk chair
was lower to the ground than the armchair, creating two differing
levels of support that would no doubt bed his back in a lovely
manner. Together the two only made a relatively flat surface of about
three or four feet. I could only imagine how his long legs would
dangle off the end awkwardly.

"You can't
possibly mean to sleep on that thing."

"The only matter
left to decide is whether it'll be with or without a blanket."

"I'm not allowing
this." I protested defiantly.

"I take it that
means I don't get the blanket. Very well, then. Goodnight,
Weasley."

And without further
elaboration, he blew out the three remaining candles in one huff,
effectively shrouding the entire room in pitch darkness.

There was another
series of shuffling noises, a soft thunk followed by a muttered
curse, an extremely strange creaking noise, and then complete
silence.

I remained sitting for
a few minutes, staring blankly in the direction of where Draco's
sleeping apparatus was located. When he stubbornly refused to
comment, I asked, "You're not actually going to do this, are
you?"

"Some of us are
trying to go some rest, Weasley. I'm bloody tired." His voice
sounded somewhat strained, as if something was poking him in the
back, and thoroughly un-tired.

I rolled my eyes and
flopped onto my back. "Have it your way," I said in a clipped
tone. "I'll just have to try to take up this entire bed all by
myself."

There was a very
distinct squeaking noise, followed by another muffled curse.

I paused at this, an
entirely ludicrous idea forming. It was somewhat demeaning, quite
unlikely to be affective, and would no doubt end in total
humiliation. It had one big thing going for it, however—it was the
only plan I really had.

"It's rather
chilly here all by myself," I stated timidly, hardly believing I
was actually doing this.

No response.

"And actually, not
nearly as comforting. Rather lonesome, in fact," I continued,
trying to make my voice smooth.

There was a grunt
followed by the rustling of fabric.

Somewhat encouraged, I
decided to step things up a notch. "I hate being alone when I
sleep—I love the feeling of being close to someone."

The chair groaned
sickeningly.

I felt my face burn at
the thought of what I was about to say, and I was sure he would be
able to see it even in the dark. "Don't you like that, Draco? The
feeling of someone else's body pressed up against you all night
long?"

There was a crack and
a deafening thud.

Sitting bolt upright,
I leaned over the edge of the bed, completely unsure of where he had
fallen, which is what I assumed had occurred. There was no response.
I leaned down farther, fear beginning to seize me.

"Dra—"

All words were cut off
with a strangled cry as a strong pair of arms abruptly pulled me off
the bed and onto the floor—or more accurately, a very warm, very
masculine body. I gasped upon the contact, completely taken by
surprise. I could immediately feel my body start to tingle. From what
I could tell, I was positioned somewhere on his lap, but it didn't
really make much of a difference anyway as a pair a lips erased all
of my thoughts.

The kiss was different
this time—it was rough, demanding, fueled by an emotion that I
easily identified as lust. Somewhere in the back of my mind I
registered the fact that my little seduction charade had worked,
though I hadn't exactly intended to end up with the both of us on
the floor. Oh well—Draco was much more comfortable than the bed
anyhow.

I nearly cried out
when a hand snaked up to rest at the base of my neck, and when the
other began sliding under my shirt and up my back I was fairly
certain I did. I began to feel a desperate need building within me,
and suddenly needed more. My hands traced the path from his own up to
his shoulders, relishing the feeling of the toned muscles beneath my
fingers. They continued along the contour of his shoulders and up the
back of his neck, resting to tangle in fine strands of smooth hair,
which was just as soft as I had imagined, and entirely worth enduring
every mind-boggling antic he had ever thrown at me.

Draco inhaled sharply
when this happened, breaking contact for a moment to let out what I
could have sworn was a groan.

And then, quite
abruptly, "Ginny, stop," he bit out, in what sounded like a
painful, strangled manner. His voice was hoarse, as if his throat was
dry.

I cringed, trying
desperately to mask my disappointment. "What? Why?" The tone of
his voice, raspy and low, demanded I do the opposite.

"Because you're
not the only one that reacts, you know. This is precisely why I
didn't want to sleep next to you," he whispered in my ear. It
sounded like an admission, and I wished that I could see his face.
Still, I failed to see how it applied.

"So?" I for one
found the fact that he was reacting to me a very good thing.

"So?" he
exclaimed in what sounded like disbelief. "You're the one that
just made me prove that I care about things other than this and you
wonder why I stopped? It'd be a pretty poor idea to let things get
out of hand after that discussion, wouldn't you agree?"

I frowned guiltily,
the logic beginning to sink in. "S'pose so," I muttered. I
begrudgingly made to move off of his lap and onto the floor, but was
promptly poked in the arse when I attempted to sit.

"What is this?" I
wondered aloud, wrenching a piece of something out from under me.

"Wood, probably."

It took me a moment to
piece together how exactly this had occurred, when I suddenly
recalled the cacophonic noise from earlier.

"So the chair…?"
I asked tentatively, trying, but not too hard, to hide the amusement
in my voice.

I could feel Draco
send me a glare in the darkness, which clearly stated that he was
able to see through my charade without effort. I found that I didn't
much care. "Is indisposed," he finished.

"What happened,
exactly?"

"Well it was no
thanks to you," he sneered, in a tone that made it plain he held me
entirely responsible for the whole incident, and that the fact that
he was the one that had constructed and decided to sleep upon
that feeble contraption he had tried to pass off as a bed had
absolutely nothing to do with it whatsoever. "I was trying to roll
over, to drown out your voice, and apparently the shifted weight
destroyed the leg."

"I reckon it
wasn't sturdy enough," I consoled, trying to sympathize.
Unfortunately it came across as slightly mocking instead, which,
again, I didn't feel bad about in the least.

"Obviously,"
he responded, and I knew that he had rolled his eyes, despite the
darkness. He tried to use the same tone as before, but I could detect
a bit of resentment underneath his words.

There was a moment of
silence, during which I assumed Draco mourned the loss of his only
excuse for giving me the entire bed.

"Well, let's get
off the floor," I suggested, standing up on wobbly legs and
suppressing the jittery sensation that was threatening to overcome
me.

"There's really
not enough--"

"Draco, you've no
choice in the matter. Where are you planning on sleeping, the floor?"
I demanded, secretly pleased my plan had somehow miraculously worked
out, albeit in a different way than intended.

There was another
pause, as if he was actually considering the floor an option, and I
groaned, exasperated.

"Are you that
uncomfortable with the idea of being that close to me?" I asked,
incredulous and slightly brassed-off at the fact that he was trying
this desperately to avoid the situation.

"What?" he
scoffed. "How can you honestly think that after...," His voice
cut off, and I flushed. He sighed before continuing. "As I said,
I don't want things to get out of hand, and I am simply trying to put
myself out of temptations reach." He stated the last part like a
fact, but I still felt my mouth go dry at the implications within the
words.

"I—I promise
not to do anything,… er..." I couldn't seem to make myself say
the word—it seemed too ridiculous to use it to describe myself.

Draco scoffed again,
and mumbled something about not having to try that hard under his
breath.

I steeled myself, and
said what seemed to be the last thing that would change his mind.
"It's not like I'd protest if something were to happen, anyway."

"That's not the
point!" he snapped, suddenly enraged. Had I not grown used to
his mood swings I would've jumped; as it was, I simply found myself
confused.

"Look, this is
all kind of irrelevant. If you don't want anything to happen and I
won't let anything happen, we've nothing to worry about," I
assured him in a voice that was more confident than I felt.

"I—" he
sighed hugely, as if finally accepting defeat.

"Let's just get
some sleep," I added, closing the subject. "Merlin knows we
both need it. Come on." I groped blindly for the side of the bed
in the darkness, and climbed in first, sliding all the way to the
wall. After a few moments, Draco followed. We barely managed to fit
into the bed without touching each other.

Curious as to whether
or not Draco was comfortably situated, I listened closely, but was
unable to detect even the sound of him breathing. In fact, the only
thing I did notice was the thick tension hanging in the air
between us, heavier than any blanket.

I don't know how long
we remained like that, but to me it felt like ages. I did everything
I could think of in an attempt to distract myself and relax, but to
no avail. Finally, after my third attempt at counting hippogriffs,
Draco broke the silence.

"So I've been
thinking," he started in a clear tone that indicated he had had
about as much luck sleeping as I had, "about the real reason
neither of us are sleeping yet. If I'm not mistaken it's due to the
fact that we can't bloody-well relax because we're so damned afraid
of crossing boundaries. Would you agree?"

I felt my eyes widen
at his language, which rarely became foul, before considering his
words. "Yes, I'd say so."

"Right," he
said curtly, as if preparing himself for something. "Well, the
way I see it is like this: the reason we're afraid of crossing
boundaries is because we want this to be based on something other
than the physical, correct?"

I took a brief moment
to wonder what 'this' meant, and another to slow my heart at the
implication that he was considering the future, and that I appeared
to be in it. A hoarse "yeah" was all I could manage.

"Likewise, if we
were to be sure that our relationship—"

My heart took off like
a rocket, thundering so loudly in my chest I would have bet my life
that Draco could hear it. My brain couldn't even form a coherent
thought, instead repeating three things over and over, as if in
shock.

Me...relationship...Draco...me...relationship...
I struggled to pay attention to what he was saying.

"—was honest
and open enough so that we could be rid of such doubt, the
boundaries, essentially, could be done away with altogther."

"Well, yes," I
responded, unsure of where he was going with this and still in shock
from the fact that he considered us to have a relationship. I
felt like he was throwing far too many things at me at one time, as
if I was barely able to comprehend them all. "But how exactly do
you propose we do that?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.
That alone should have tipped me off— I had long since learned
that, with Draco, you couldn't really expect anything.

In a clear, determined
voice, as if he had thought it through, he said, "I'm going to
confide in you."

I froze, which you
would think impossible when you're lying down, but trust me, I have
never been so still in my entire life. I tried to speak, but found
that my throat had closed up. It was as if my body had shut down,
unable to do multiple things in addition to this multitude of new
information, such as breathe and circulate blood at the same time.

I heard him take a
deep breath before continuing. "Besides, I'm sick of listening to
the part of my brain that insists on yelling at me to trust you,"
he muttered.

I rejoiced at the fact
that I wasn't the only one that experienced said phenomenon, and
would have laughed at the irony under normal circumstances.

There was a pause
before he spoke again, and when he did I almost flinched at the tone
of his voice—I couldn't quite put my finger on why, but something
about it was ridiculously scary.

"I'm assuming you
remember what I mentioned earlier about my father," he stated, in
an eerie sounding monotone.

I found my voice as I
realized I wanted to comfort him, to make him sound normal. "Of
course."

"I'm also assuming
then, that you, being of solid intellect, were able to gather that
things between us aren't exactly ideal."

I swallowed. "I
did."

"Right," he said
dully. "It really goes back to what I was telling you this
afternoon while we were shoveling. As I said, my father is convinced
that he knows precisely what's best for me and my future. He is
insistent that making certain…choices is the only way to keep our
family and its status secure."

An icy hand seemed to
grab hold of my chest. "Choices?" I whispered.

"Yes." There was a
pause, and when he spoke again his voice was so hollow I almost
didn't recognize it. "Particularly those concerning my
allegiance."

My stomach plummeted.
I said the only thing I could manage. "No," I whispered, not
wanting to believe it.

Draco let out sharp,
nearly hysterical laugh. "It's not that surprising, is it?" My
father's been in and out of Azkaban, hasn't he? It's no
secret—only natural that he'd want me to continue on. Says it'll
protect the family, and that there's no way to back out. It'd be
like committing treason."

I couldn't breathe.
My lungs stung, eyes burned. It took a great deal of effort to form
the words that I knew I had to say, and when I was finally able to,
it was so shaky and uneven I didn't even think he could understand.
"He wants…he wants you to swear your allegiance to V-Voldemort,"
I choked.

"Yes," he replied
quietly.

I swallowed, though
with difficulty, and forced myself to continue. "And you don't
want to." I could feel myself trembling, petrified of what his
response would be.

There was a pause so
long I was almost certain he was going to contradict me, to say that
I had misunderstood. Maybe that would have been easier to hear
instead of his reply.

His answer was barely
audible. "No."

It was like a tidal
wave hit me in slow motion. I slowly felt every part of my being,
mental and physical, become absolutely overwhelmed. I was
light-headed—shock, horror, hate—everything came crashing down to
engulf me.

"You know what the
scariest part of it is?" he continued. "There are things about it
that appeal to me—the respect, the power—but it's like signing
your life away. And Voldemort isn't the person I want to give mine
to."

I became aware that I
was shaking my head absently, and took my first breath in what felt
like minutes, quivering terribly, and brought a trembling hand to my
throat.

"Draco you—" I
choked for the second time. "Oh God," I managed to wheeze.

I felt utterly useless
to him, as if nothing I could say would matter. Filled with complete
desperation to do something, I did the only thing I could think of: I
rolled over, clutching to his chest with all of my strength.

He didn't seem to
know how to respond to the gesture. His body was stiff, as if
surprised.

The phrase that had
somehow become our support system seemed to work, and he slowly moved
to pull an arm out from under me, ushering me slightly to him.

"There's more,"
came his voice. It sounded strained, as if he was trying very hard to
remain unemotional.

I ran a hand up his
arm in what I hoped was a soothing manner.

"All of this creates
a lot of tension in the household. My father—well, he doesn't
have the most reputable communication skills. When he's stressed he
solves his problems by forgetting about them."

I waited, heart
racing.

"He drinks. He does
stupid things—says stuff he'd never—" he sighed. "Most of
the time I can handle the things he says—I'm used to it. But
sometimes he hits nerves, and my control slips." He let out a
mirthless laugh. "Last summer my father and I had just had an
argument. He left the house and returned a few hours later completely
gone, and started things up again. My mother hates it when we fight,
and tried to get him to settle down, but that sent him even more over
the edge. I intervened, then, tried to get him to see reason, and
when I did he told me that I was killing my mother by jeopardizing
her safety—that clearly I didn't love her enough, or I'd be
willing to make the pledge. I snapped. I punched him—I punched my
father." He let out what almost sounded like a cough.

Chest aching, I sought
out his hand in the darkness, grabbing hold tightly. When he drew a
deep breath I felt his chest rise unevenly beneath me.

"Oh, Draco…" I
murmured, "I'm so sorry."

"Ginny, I—I don't
want you to—" His voice was hoarse, and unless I was very much
mistaken, he was crying. I knew better than to hurt his pride by
admitting I knew such a thing, however.

"Don't worry," I
said quietly, "I'm still here."

Knowing
my words couldn't solve anything, I simply held on to him,
whispering that everything was going to be okay anyway until his
breathing slowed, and I was sure he was dreaming.

Only then did I reach
up and wipe the tears from his face.

END CHP 18

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